"I hope not. I think you've made a good alderman, Denton, and you'll find I've said so."

"But now?"

"If you vote for that franchise, I shall certainly tell the ward that I think you've done wrong. Then the ward will do as they please."

"As you please, you mean."

"No. You've been long enough in politics to know that unless I can make the ward think as I do, I couldn't do anything. What would you care for my opinion, if you didn't know that the votes are back of it?"

Just then the door swung open, and Dennis came in. "Tim said yez was alone wid Denton, sir, so Oi came right in. It's a good-mornin', sir.

How are yez, Terence?"

"You are just the man I want, Dennis. Tell Denton how the ward feels about the franchises."

"Shure. It's one man they is. An' if Denton will step down to my place this night, he'll find out how they think."

"They never would have felt so, if Mister Stirling hadn't talked to them. Not one in twenty knew the question was up."

"That's because they are most of them too hard working to keep track of all the things. Come, Denton; I don't attempt to say how you shall vote.

I only tell you how it seems to me. Go round the ward, and talk with others. Then you can tell whether I can give you trouble in the future or not. I don't want to fight you. We've been good friends in the past, and we can do more by pulling in double harness than by kicking, I don't know a man I would rather see at the Hall." Peter held out his hand, and Denton took it.

"All right, Mister Stirling. I'll do my best to stay friends," he said, and went out.

Peter turned and smiled at Dennis. "They can't find out that it's not I, but the ward. So every time there's trouble they lay it against me, and it's hard to keep them friendly. And I hate quarrels and surliness."

"It's yezself can do it, though. Shure, Denton was in a great state av mind this mornin', they was tellin' me, but he's all right now, an' will vote right, or my name isn't Dennis Moriarty."

"Yes. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll vote square on Tuesday."

Just then Tim brought in the cards of Watts and Leonore, and strangely enough, Peter said they were to be shown in at once. In they came, and after the greetings, Peter said:

"Miss D'Alloi, this is my dear friend, Dennis Moriarty. Dennis, Miss D'Alloi has wanted to know you because she's heard of your being such a friend to me."

"Shure," said Dennis, taking the little hand so eagerly offered him, "Oim thinkin' we're both lucky to be in the thoughts at all, at all, av such a sweet young lady."

"Oh, Mr. Moriarty, you've kissed the blarney stone."

"Begobs," responded Dennis, "it needs no blarney stone to say that.

It's afther sayin' itself."

"Peter, have you that opinion?"

"Yes." Peter handed her out a beautifully written sheet of script, all in due form, and given an appearance of vast learning, by red ink marginal references to such solid works as "Wheaton," "Story," and "Cranch's" and "Wallace's" reports. Peter had taken it practically from a "Digest," but many apparently learned opinions come from the same source. And the whole was given value by the last two lines, which read, "Respectfully submitted, Peter Stirling." Peter's name had value at the bottom of a legal opinion, or a check, if nowhere else.

"Look, Mr. Moriarty," cried Leonore, too full of happiness over this decision of her nationality not to wish for some one with whom to share it, "I've always thought I was French--though I didn't feel so a bit--and now Mr. Stirling has made me an American, and I'm so happy. I hate foreigners."

Watts laughed. "Why, Dot. You mustn't say that to Mr. Moriarty. He's a foreigner himself."

"Oh, I forgot. I didn't think that----" Poor Leonore stopped there, horrified at what she had said.

"No," said Peter, "Dennis is not a foreigner. He's one of the most ardent Americans I know. As far as my experience goes, to make one of Dennis's bulls, the hottest American we have to-day, is the Irish-American."

"Oh, come," said Watts. "You know every Irishman pins his loyalty to the 'owld counthry.'"

"Shure," said Dennis, "an' if they do, what then? Sometimes a man finds a full-grown woman, fine, an' sweet, an' strong, an' helpful to him, an'

he comes to love her big like. But does that make him forget his old weak mother, who's had a hard life av it, yet has done her best by him?

Begobs! If he forgot her, he wouldn't be the man to make a good husband.

Oi don't say Oi'm a good American, for its small Oi feel besides Misther Stirling. But Oi love her, an' if she ever wants the arm, or the blood, or the life, av Dennis Moriarty, she's only got to say so."

"Well," said Watts, "this is very interesting, both as a point of view and as oratory; but it isn't business. Peter, we came down this morning to take whatever legal steps are necessary to put Dot in possession of her grandmother's money, of which I have been trustee. Here is a lot of papers about it. I suppose everything is there relating to it."

"Papa seemed to think it would be very wise to ask you to take care of it, and pay me the income, I can't have the princ.i.p.al till I'm twenty-five."

"You must tie it up some way, Peter, or Dot will make ducks and drakes of it. She has about as much idea of the value of money as she has of the value of foreigners. When we had our villa at Florence, she supported the entire pauper population of the city."

Peter had declined heretofore the care of trust funds. But it struck him that this was really a chance--from a business standpoint, entirely! It is true, the amount was only ninety two thousand, and, as a trust company would handle that sum of money for four hundred and odd dollars, he was bound to do the same; and this would certainly not pay him for his time. "Sometimes, however," said Peter to himself, "these, trusteeships have very handsome picking's, aside from the half per cent." Peter did not say that the "pickings," as they framed themselves in his mind, were sundry calls on him at his office, and a justifiable reason at all times for calling on Leonore; to say nothing of letters and other unearned increment. So Peter was not obstinate this time.

"It's such a simple matter that I can have the papers drawn while you wait, if you've half an hour to spare." Peter did this, thinking it would keep them longer, but later it occurred to him it would have been better to find some other reason, and leave the papers, because then Leonore would have had to come again soon. Peter was not quite as cool and far-seeing as he was normally.

He regretted his error the more when they all took his suggestion that they go into his study. Peter rang for his head clerk, and explained what was needed with great rapidity, and then left the latter and went into the study.

"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for?" said the clerk, retiring with the papers.

When Peter entered the library he found Leonore and Watts reposing in chairs, and Dennis standing in front of them, speaking. This was what Dennis was saying:

"'Schatter, boys, an' find me a sledge.' Shure, we thought it was demented he was, but he was the only cool man, an' orders were orders.

Dooley, he found one, an' then the captain went to the rails an' gave it a swing, an' struck the bolts crosswise like, so that the heads flew off, like they was shootin' stars. Then he struck the rails sideways, so as to loosen them from the ties. Then says he: 'Half a dozen av yez take off yez belts an' strap these rails together!' Even then we didn't understand, but we did it All this time the dirty spal--Oi ask yez pardon, miss--all this time the strikers were pluggin' at us, an'

bullets flyin' like fun. 'Drop your muskets,' says the captain, when we had done; 'fall in along those rails. Pick them up, and double-quick for the shed door,' says he, just as if he was on parade. Then we saw what he was afther, and double-quick we went. Begobs, that door went down as if it was paper. He was the first in. 'Stand back,' says he, 'till Oi see what's needed.' Yez should have seen him walk into that sheet av flame, an' stand theer, quiet-like, thinkin', an' it so hot that we at the door were coverin' our faces to save them from scorchin'. Then he says: 'Get your muskets!' We went, an' Moike says to me: 'It's no good.

No man can touch them cars. He's goin' to attind to the strikers,' But not he. He came out, an' he says: 'B'ys, it's hot in there, but, if you don't mind a bit av a burn, we can get the poor fellows out. Will yez try?' 'Yes!' we shouted. So he explained how we could push cars widout touchin' them. 'Fall in,' says he. 'Fix bayonets. First file to the right av the cars, second rank to the left. Forward, march!' An' we went into that h.e.l.l, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' down Broadway, wid flags, an' music, an' women clappin' hands."

"But weren't you dreadfully burnt?"

"Oh, miss, yez should have seen us! We was blacker thin the divil himsilf. Hardly one av us but didn't have the hair burnt off the part his cap didn't cover; an', as for eyelashes, an' mustaches, an'

blisters, no one thought av them the next day. Shure, the whole company was in bed, except them as couldn't lie easy."

"And Mr. Stirling?"

"Shure, don't yez know about him?"

"No."

"Why, he was dreadful burnt, an' the doctors thought it would be blind he'd be; but he went to Paris, an' they did somethin' to him there that saved him. Oh, miss, the boys were nearly crazy wid fear av losin' him.

They'd rather be afther losin' the regimental cat."

Peter had been tempted to interrupt two or three times, but it was so absorbing to watch Leonore's face, and its changing expression, as, unconscious of his presence, she listened to Dennis, that Peter had not the heart to do it. But now Watts spoke up.

"Do you hear that, Peter? There's value for you! You're better than the cat."

So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis left. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at Peter's study-table, and Miss D'Alloi took another of his pens. Peter hoped she'd stop and think a little, again, but she didn't. Just as she had begun an L she hesitated, however.